The Stapler Incident
by Mistle11411
Summary: Let's just say it's not a good idea to leave a two year old in a room by themselves, especially when a stapler is in their reach. Corresponds with my story The Lightning Thief: My Version WARNING: A little blood and alot of cuteness!


**Okay, so this is my second one shot. This goes along with my story The Lightning Thief: My Version, so I suggest you read that first before you read this. So this is what basically happened with the stapler incident, and I just think it would be cute.**

**Disclaimer: I don't and never will own PJO, all rights go to Rick Riordan.**

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Percy's POV

I laughed as I watched my little two year old sister, Mistle, try to drag a small chest of toys over from the other end of the play room that Aunt Shana and Uncle Jeff had made for Mistle and me in their house.

"Pewcy, help me," she says with a lisp, which never stops in succeeding in melting my heart.

"Okay, I'll help you," I tell her, because I'm finished with my homework anyways, and you just couldn't resist her, especially if she gives you the puppy dog eyes, which she never means to do, though.

I walk over and help her drag the chest over to the table, and open it to let her dig through it. I look at her eyes, which are so much like mine. They even have the specks of many beautiful blues and stunning silvers and gorgeous gold's and vibrant greens with a ring of gold around her pupil-the sunflower effect, Shana had told me about-and colors making it glint like the ocean, changing with her moods as if the sun's rays were shining through the ocean. Shana said that Mistle, Triton, and I all had this in our eyes. She also said that we all looked so alike, we could pass as brothers and sister if we wanted too. I didn't disagree with her, because we actually did. All of us had natural tanned skin, the same jet black hair, we looked alike in the face even, plus our eyes being the same as well.

All of a sudden Mistle turned around and knocked my papers to the ground, scattering them.

"Oops," she says," I'm sowwy Pewcy," she says with a lisp again, and looking ashamed of herself, ducking her head down.

"I pick it up," she says, with her head still bent, and goes to pick up the papers, still looking ashamed.

"It's okay, Misty," I said, using my new nickname for her. "I know it was an accident. You don't have to pick it, okay. I'll do it. Just go and play with your horsie," I tell her.

"Okay," she says, immediately brightening up again, and going to go play with her toy horses.

I pick up the papers and get the stapler from the desk in the corner of the room that Aunt Shana uses to work on while watching Mistle play. I walk back over to the table and grab my papers off the table to staple them, and then I put the papers away, and put the stapler down on the table.

"I hungy, Pewcy," Mistle said.

"Do you want a PB&J sandwich with milk?" I ask her, although I know she'll say yes.

She nods vigorously and I smile.

"Okay, keep playing with her horses while I make lunch, okay."

"Okay," she says and keeps playing with her horses.

I go downstairs to the kitchen, wanting to finish as soon as possible since Triton was late. I didn't want to leave her alone for long.

I got the ingredients and the knife, and was about to put the knife in the peanut butter, when I heard Mistle start wailing from upstairs. Mistle didn't really cry-she only cried when something was wrong, really- but this wasn't normal crying. It sounded louder, more urgent. As if she was in some kind of trouble. I felt my heartbeat get considerably faster and my breath quicken. I ran up the stairs, completely forgetting about the knife in my hands, and ran into the play room.

I saw Mistle sitting on the floor, tears running down her face, like somebody left the faucet very slightly on, the stapler sitting next to her on the floor. There was blood dripping from her lip, onto her oversized t-shirts. Oh, crap! She tried to eat the stapler, didn't she! That doesn't even look like food!

"Mistle…" I sighed, bending down and scooping her off the floor. She buried her head in my collarbone, resulting in smearing my t-shirt with blood. I didn't really like the shirt anyways.

I speed walked down the hall towards the bathroom, bouncing her on my hip to try and get her to stop crying. I sat her down on the counter by the sink and quickly got a hand towel and wet it to put on her lip, but I cleaned her face off first to see it better. Her hand kept going up to her lip, but I kept swatting it away. She'd only make it worse.

I rinsed out the washcloth quickly and cleaned the blood off her lip. There was a stapler in it, crap, but it wasn't bent, like with papers, so I grabbed a pair of tweezers and pulled it out. I cleaned her lip again and made sure it had stopped bleeding. I looked at her lip and saw a small tear in it. I wasn't a doctor, but I was sure it was going to end up scarring. But it was an adorable place for a scar.

I wiped the remaining tears of her face with my thumbs. I put her hands under the faucet since they were covered in blood from grabbing her lip, too. I rummaged in the cabinet above the sink. There has to be butterfly bandages _somewhere…_

"I hungwy," Mistle informed me from the counter as I stuck my head out of the cabinet.

"Does that mean the stapler didn't fill you up?" I said as I found the box of bandages and pulled them out of the cabinet. Mistle pouted, which looked really cute, especially with the white around the cut on her lip.

"No," she said truthfully. I smiled and rolled my eyes as I pulled out a butterfly bandage. "It hurt."

"That's because staplers aren't for eating, Mistle," I told her. I pressed the butterfly bandage over the cut, and pressed it down with my index finger.

"Why not?" she asked as I picked her up and took her to her room, to get both of us new shirts, since my backpack with extra clothes was in her room, too.

"Because their metal. You don't eat metal," I explained as I pulled a blue t-shirt on over my head.

"Why not?" she repeated, as I changed her shirt to a blue one as well.

"Because metal isn't good for your stomach."

"Why not?"

"Because it rips up your insides."

"Why?"

"Because it's sharp."

"Why?"

"Do you want to eat lunch or not?" I ask, answering all her questions as we head down into the kitchen, her on my hip.

"Yes!" she says.

I laughed. Then there was a knock on the door. I put Mistle down by the door entry, climbed up onto the stool that was always by the door, and looked through the peep hole. I saw Triton and smiled. I climbed down, unlocked the door, picked up Mistle, and opened up the door to let Triton in.

When I opened the door, he asked, "What happened to Mistle's lip?"

"She tried to eat the stapler."

"I'm hungry," Mistle stated again, to remind us.

"C'mon, let's get something to eat," Triton said.

"Yay!" Mistle yelled.

Triton and I laughed.

The rest of the day was uneventful after that.

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**Okay, so this was my second one shot. Please review to tell me you loved it, hated it, or whatever. Please look at my other stories, too, please. By the way, Mistle is two in this story and Percy is eight.**

**Until next time, this is Mistle11411 signing out.**


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